


The call of Clootie

by interstellarmess



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Puns, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Gen, Horror, Not Beta Read, Pop Culture, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 15:15:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17852021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/interstellarmess/pseuds/interstellarmess
Summary: After her daughter Alice Michelle is sent away, Wynonna Earp has to face Bulshar Clootie, the demon who cursed her great-great-grandfather. But between, vampires, wendigos, revenants and a serie of ritualistic occult murders, the Earp heir and her team will have to face new challenges and join forces with unlikely allies.(Yeah so I'm bad at summaries and I didn't like the direction that season 3 took so I've decided to rewrite it my way. There will be supernatural freaks, horror, snarky comments, Wayhaugt content and various degrees of drama)





	The call of Clootie

**Author's Note:**

> So. A few PSA :  
> \- It's my first fanfiction ever ;  
> \- I'm not an english native speaker ;  
> \- This hasn't been beta-ed but if you're looking to do it, contact me ;  
> \- It's a rewriting of events so I will try to keep the same episodes titles and number of chapters ;  
> \- Yes the title is an awful pun ;  
> \- There an original character in the fanfic, it could be read as a reader insert except the action is not to revolve around her. She has a name and a description.
> 
> I hope you'll like it.

\- Well, this is not Stardew Valley. That’s for fucking sure.

You say, standing in front of the century-old metal gate. The clerk next to you nods. He exhales with each breath. If it wasn’t hella cold maybe you would be able to enjoy the view but with the jet lag and the exhaustion from the road, you’re just dreaming of a good night of sleep in a warm bed. If only the guy was willing to move a little faster. Right now he’s fumbling with the papers. Shivering because of the temperature and taking way too long to fill out the final sheet.

 

Next thing you know, he’s handing you a pen.

\- One last signature, Miss Cross. And the Key estate will be yours.

You manage to hold the pun that’s begging you to be said. Or the reference to the Joe Hill comics. You just write your name and you’re done with it. You try not to think that in some way you sold your soul to the devil. You have bigger problems to worry about.

 

The clerk gives you the keys and scutters away as fast as possible. Leaving you and the old metal gate face to face.

 

You’re standing at the end of a dirt road and in front of you, there’s this massive black entrance with “Key” inscribed above. On the other side, a forest and further away the front of a huge house. You unlock the door. And the world changes.

 

* * *

 

It’s been a few weeks now. Who is she kidding? It’s been two months, three days since she sent Alice Michelle away and she can’t stop thinking about it. Training with Dolls helps. Drinking too. What would REALLY aid is a case but no, Purgatory, Canada, freak factory that spouts monster quicker than anyone can say poutine is dead quiet. It’s not business as usual. It’s closed for the holidays. So she trains and she drinks. And she tries to forget. She hits Dolls and as her fist connects with her (awesome) face, she knows she should feel a sense of accomplishment that isn’t there. At least, there are still Revenants to kill.

 

A ringtone puts an end to the session. Xavier steps down from the mats and smiles at her.

\- You did good.

\- Yep, almost back at full speed.

Jeremy chimes in. Wynonna tries not to sigh. It’s not that she doesn’t like the guy but he has the worst timing in the world. And even fewer social graces than Champ. 

\- I could still kick your ass if you’re so eager.

She answers with a more fire than intended. The scientist backs up slowly, wary of the oldest Earp’s temper.

\- Hold your horses, deputy. We need Jeremy’s services. At least for a little while.

\- It’s great to feel so appreciated,” mutters the young man before sharing a laugh with his boss.

\- Oh take a room, you two!

\- Well, somebody’s cranky.

Dolls again, gleeful to the point of being creepy.

\- Somebody’s bored out of her mind. I’ve been sitting on my ass for too long. No revenants, no witches, not even a little monster. Bullshit’s in the wind for two months and he has done squat.

She doesn’t speak about what she’s done immediately after the demon’s liberation from his magic prison. Who she visited. For zero result. Her mother hasn’t answered to her. She stayed, facing the water and after half an hour, Wynonna just gave up and went back empty-handed.

 

\- It’s Bulshar,” corrects Jeremy without looking up from whatever sample he’s studying at the moment.

\- I KNOW it’s Bulshar, Wynonna snaps again, I can’t stand all this waiting. I could kill for a case.

 

Somewhere on Dolls desk a ringing. The agent rummages through the papers searching for it then emerges victorious with the phone in hand. Another sign he relaxed since he got in Purgatory. Xavier wasn’t so messy starting out. His eyes widen. A short conversation followed by “We’ll be there.” He hangs up, turns to Wynonna.

\- Well, sounds like you won’t have to do any killing.

She hears worry in his voice.

\- And call Doc. We’ll need the whole team for that one.”

 

That one is mass murder. In the Pussy Willow. Since she came back to Purgatory, Wynonna’s witnessed a lot of things. This, though, is a new level of horrific and disgusting. Not only people have been slaughtered but somebody played with the corpses. They’ve been displayed in some sort of sick ritual.

 

\- Just when you think you’ve seen it all. Someone shows up and does that.

She jumps a little when the voice of Doc rises from somewhere near her left ear. He’s standing close to her. Casual. Relaxed even. It’s good to catch him that way. Normal. There hasn’t been any of that since Alice was born. Tense silences and sadness. More than the two of them are equipped to deal with. Who could have guessed that a massacre would heal the bond between them? At least a little. She’s too happy to answer.

\- So you’ve never seen this kind of stuff?

A few seconds during which she can hear him think.

 

\- Nothing that … refined. The occasional an eye for an eye mentality. Sometimes a land dispute gone wrong. Acts of war, you know.

 

She nods for the sake of this conversation, the lack of which she craved for weeks. She remembers his time was more violent. Or maybe it just shifted. Fucking Hell. She’s starting to sound like an Emo teenager. She comes back to reality.

 

\- So Nedley, what do we have here?

The sheriff is nowhere to be found. Aside from Doc who’s still unsure of what to do, and of course, the corpses, everyone’s at work. Jeremy’s taking measurements and samples, a concentrated frown on his face. Dolls, being Dolls, is shooting photos like this is a goddamn Victoria’s Secret fashion show. That’s when she notices Nicole in the corner. 

Usually, her sister’s girlfriend is a red-headed tornado of bossiness. Today, she’s sitting on a stool with a vacant expression. This is weird coming from a woman who defied a Widow a few months back. Protectiveness kick in and before she realizes it, she’s standing next to her.

\- Hey Deputy Boring, what’s going on?

It’s sure to get her a reaction. Except it doesn’t. Nicole remains both seated and silent. Something’s wrong.

\- Earth to Nicole. I repeat, what’s going on?

After a few seconds of the same, she moves. Comes back to her senses.

\- Wynonna?

\- Yes.

\- When did you arrive?

\- About 10 minutes ago.

\- Oh… Did you speak to me?

\- Yeah. I asked you what your problem was and now I’m definitely calling Waverly.

That gets her on her toes.

\- No! You can’t. I don’t want her to see … this.

\- Believe me, I don’t either. But if you think you and I will be able to keep her away from the case, you’re deluded. And whatever climbed up your butt, you need to discuss it with someone. So unless you wanna talk about it with me, I suggest you speak to your girlfriend.

Nicole seems on the verge of protesting again though in the end she just says.

\- It’s horrible. All these people. Slaughtered. And none of them had time to run.

 That’s when it hits her.

\- There was no survivor?

\- Nuh-uh.

Nicole shakes her head.

\- Then … who called you?

\- Delivery guy. No one answered so he got curious and now he’s in the hospital from the shock, explains Nedley as he emerges from the back of the building.

\- Whoever… Whatever happened, it was fast, Jeremy says. From the blood pattern, everyone was killed in here.

\- There are two more corpses in the backrooms. Murdered where they were standing, the sherif adds.

\- What could have possibly done that?

Wynonna’s question hangs in the air. On the ground, dead bodies, eyes open, stare at the ceiling, silent forever.

 

* * *

 

\- Well, this time Robert, you really outdid yourself.

The voice is coming from above. Not so high that he can think someone is visiting him but enough that he can feel looked down on. Plus, he knows that voice and it doesn’t belong to anyone alive. A hallucination then. Good. A new brand of crazy to change from the ordinary.

He raises his head. A blonde woman is standing there. Her hair in disarray and her throat open. Like the last time he saw her. He’s grateful she’s keeping her arms crossed that way. Even all those years later he still cannot put up with the fact that they ripped her guts out.

\- Hello, Elizabeth. 

A sigh. Exasperation. He can almost taste it.

\- Hello, Elizabeth. That’s all? No, ‘you’re supposed to be dead’? No ‘how did you come back’? No ‘why are you here’?

He tries to smile an apology but fails. He isn't capable of it anymore.

\- I guess I’ve always known you would appear one day. I mean, at some point, I will see pink elephants.

He talks about madness with clarity. Two months in that well did him some good after all.

\- I’m not a fucking hallucination, you ugly dumbass.

\- Are too. Real you never swore. It wasn’t ladylike.

\- Real me’s been dead for 130 years, so don’t be surprised if I picked up some new habits along the way. Passing will do that to you, mister moving metal with his mind.

He laughs. His throat is dry despite his living quarters.

\- Fine, you’re a ghost. Why would you visit me of all people, Elizabeth?

The woman in front of him relaxes a little. She drops next to him, shoulder to shoulder. His left arm feels like he’s bathing in freezing water.

\- Because withstanding all your fucked up plans, you’re still my only friend alive…

 

* * *

Bulshar’s cult. A series of mass murder committed both inside and outside of the Ghost River Triangle. The photos, spread over two tables, are stuff of nightmares. Hence the box of untouched donuts going stale near the entrance of the room.

Waverly arrived some 15 minutes ago and dragged Nicole away. Wynonna hopes they are talking and not having sex somewhere in the office. It’s already awkward enough at the homestead with its paper thin walls. Living with a young couple is a pain in the ass sometimes. But then again, Nicole seemed disturbed to the point of trauma.

\- This pattern is on all the crime scenes, notes Dolls, indicating a specific arrangement of corpses.

\- The murders start in the ’20s in New York and this is there since the beginning.

\- That’s not next door, comments Wynonna.

\- Whoever this is. They slowly made their way to here, says Doc.

\- What do you mean? asks Dolls.

\- At first, the locations seem random. East Coast. West Coast. A little bit in tornado alley too.

He pins them all on the map, one after another very deliberately and Wynonna can’t help but admire his silhouette. It’s only when she hears Jeremy’s giggle that she realizes she’s staring at something that’s not the plan.

\- Should I make you take the harassment seminar? asks Xavier with a wide smile.

\- I wasn’t… I was thinking!

\- Aw. It’s okay, Wynonna. I do it too, assures the scientist, with a gentle clap on the arm.

 

One second as they laugh, the Heir actually considers what could happen if someone was to shoot all those guys with say a magic gun called Peacemaker.

 

\- If everyone is done ogling my rear end maybe we can go back to the murder at hand. I know I’m a damn piece of art but please, lives are a stake.

Of course, Doc would seize any opportunity to compliment himself.

\- It now comes with an expiration date, mind you.

And to remind the audience he is a mortal.

\- We all are, retorts Dolls.

\- Speaks for yourself, Khaleesi. I’m still not sure of what you are.

Well, someone has been doing their homework on pop culture.

 

Before the agent can answer the provocation, the century-old cowboy is back at the map with an addition. Now he’s drawing too. Earning him a concert of protestations from both Dolls and Jeremy.

\- Quit whining. I’ll replace it. There is no shortage of elementary classrooms with no camera.

\- You are not robbing a school, Nedley says, entering the place, his coffee mug in hand.

\- Fine. I’ll just raid your office, then.

\- I have an idea for you, John Henry. Why don’t you buy things on your own dime for a change?

\- ’Cause sheriff, I have not one good penny to my name. And this one—his thumb points to Dolls—is about to be broke as well.

 

An awkward silence creeps into the room. No one has spoken about the disappearance of Black Badge and the fact that their little team is gonna run out of money. Dolls rubs the back of his neck and open his mouth to talk when Doc cuts him off.

\- There. See.

Wynonna discovers the pattern. Twisted. Weird and frightening. There’s something not human in the way the trace wanders around North American before making a beeline for Purgatory.

\- Is it just me or… - She pauses before saying it, making her impression real - does it look like a dog following a scent?

\- Must be one hell of a bloodhound, mutters Doc.

\- But I agree with you, love.

\- Shit here is getting weirder and weirder every time.

* * *

Waverly’s worried. Nicole has always been secretive with what happened to her before, from her parents to her ex-wife, but this silence is new and somehow, the youngest Earp can sense it has everything to do with what her past holds. Right now, her girlfriend is just clutching to her. Like she’s both her lifeline and what she’s afraid to lose the most.

 - It’s okay. It’s okay, Nicole. You’re safe.

The woman buries her face in her neck and whimpers as an answer. This, more than anything else, scares Waverly. She needs to understand what’s going on.

\- Nicole. Talk to me. What’s happening?

\- I can’t.

Determination and courage take over. Waverly pushes the love of her life away and stare into her eyes.

\- Listen to me. Whatever this is, we’ll get through this. Together. We always do. I won’t let you down. You know I won’t.

What she did, relinquishing Bulshar’s ring to one of the Widows to save her, hangs in the air between them. After a few seconds, Waverly speaks again.

\- Just as I know you won’t give up on me. So spill it or, I swear to God, I’ll tell Wynonna, she can boss you around.

Nicole chuckles, a spark of genuine amusement through the despair.

\- You wouldn’t. You love us both too much to let us kill each other.

\- Don’t test me.

The policewoman holds her again for a few seconds before kissing her. Points to Waverly and crisis averted.

\- I adore you. And you scare me, Nicole says before rubbing her eyes.

\- Damn right, I scare you. I’m a badass with a shotgun. Will you please tell me what’s going on?

Her girlfriend breathes. Hard.

\- Okay.

A pause then.

\- There are things in my past. That I kept from you.

\- Let me stop you. If your big secret is about your wife, I already know. Unless you have a whole harem hidden somewhere.

Waverly wants to joke but Nicoles’ pained look prevents her from adding anything.

\- I’m sorry, honey. Shutting my face right now.

\- When I was younger, my parents used to … ship me to summer camp. It was around here. Not in the Ghost River Triangle exactly. Close enough though. - Another pause. - It was late in the evening. And I’ve never been the life of the party like you…

Nicole squeezes her hand, taking comfort in the contact.

\- I liked going to the water, every night, just to get my breath back. This evening was not so different. I was on the bank … when the screaming started. I heard people dying less than 30 meters away. I was 12 … and I panicked. I jumped into a canoe and pushed it into the current.

Tears fall down her face now as she loses herself in the memories of that night. Waverly wants to hug her but that would be a risk to put a stop to the recounting of the events and Nicole must get rid of this secret. So she stays silent. Immobile.

\- I was lying on the bottom of the canoe when I heard it. By the water. And, Waves. Waves, I felt it deep in my bones. Its need to kill. Me. The other. The whole world. But for some reason, it couldn’t reach me. And the current took me away. A policeman found me. When they brought me back to the camp, everyone had been slaughtered. And some of the bodies were arranged into the same damn pattern at the Pussy Willow.

 

* * *

\- And what makes you think I would help you?

The ghost turns her face to him. Close enough he can see the blue membrane over her what’s used to be brown eyes. Dead man … woman gaze.

\- You’re not an idiot. Even Hell couldn’t change that. I’m giving you a chance to make sure you didn’t die for nothing. And ended up damned by the way.

\- What do you want?

\- They sent someone else.

That gets him surprised. He raises an eyebrow at her.

\- Why now?

\- Because your boss is free again. Oh don’t try to lie to me, Robert. What were you thinking selling Earp’s great-granddaughter to the very demon who cursed him?

\- Waverly is not…

 The ghost brushes off his protestations with her hand. Death did change her. He remembers a polite and dignified hermit not this bitter woman.

\- Semantics, all of that. She might not be ‘of’ him but she’s his legacy all the same and you didn’t answer my question.

He’d prefer not to, however, she could leave and he doesn’t want to be alone again.

\- Try to visit Hell a couple of times. It might impair your moral compass.

\- Boohoo cry me a river, Robert. I died and I didn’t go to Elysium either and you don’t see me making pacts with the devil. And you’re welcome by the way.

He bits back his answer to make her realize where she’s attempting to strike a deal with a demon to focus on the rest of her cryptic discourse.

\- Welcome? Why?

\- Oh maybe the fact that I allowed you to have a roof over your head and a place to hide. Does a huge ass mansion ring any bell?

\- It was empty, Elizabeth. Do you want me to be grateful for your murder?

\- You know it’s more than a simple house. I made sure you could enter.

 

A memory emerges. Running in the snow, arms dead from the weight of a crying child, short of breath to end up at a closed gate.

\- Not when I needed it the most.

She has a sad smile.

\- It wasn’t you I wanted to keep out.

The beast in his guts awakes.

\- What do you mean?

 

* * *

 

\- So you’re telling us that Nicole survived an attack from Bulshar’s cult? asks Wynonna.

\- Yeah. But she’s really freaked out by it. I never saw her like that.

\- Did she remember anything useful?

\- No. Except it was fast. And… I’ve got the feeling it’s not human, whatever this is.

Wynonna would have guessed that part on her own. She still understands what her younger sister implies.

They’re all back in the Black Badge headquarters, minus Nicole who went to the break room to fix herself a coffee and regain some composure.

\- So what’s next? asks Doc.

Dolls goes to Jeremy.

\- Any idea?

The man has been silent for the half hour, absorbed by his sample, but when he turns towards them, he looks worried.

\- Honestly, I should be able to read those like a children's book. Hell I should be able to make them dance for me. Well, not these one. They are … shifting.

\- Shifting? repeats Nedley.

\- Constantly. Nothing about their structure is … normal. Just when I think I figured them out, they’re different again.

\- So we have no clue. 15 dead and we don’t know anything more than the cops from the previous cases.

Everyone exchanges a look, then vanquished, everyone gives up. Wynonna finally digs in that neglected box of donuts.

 

That’s when Waverly takes another glance at the pile of police reports. A few minutes later, her voice rises.

\- Huh guys. Are you kidding me? You’re telling me that you studied this and did not notice the obvious.

The whole room stares at her but the young woman just go back to reading.

\- Oh my God, Waves, are you gonna share what you’ve found with us or are just stay in your corner feeling smart?

Her little sister just throws her a dark look.

\- What you geniuses fail to spot is that at least one of the dead has a last name in common with the original Purgatory families.

\- What?

Dolls rushes to her side while she highlights one by one the identity of the relevant victims. Count on Waverly to notice the tiny piece of info that will change everything. It’s not a solution but it’s a start, Wynonna decides while biting in another donut.

 

* * *

 

Up close, the mansion looks less run down that you thought. Still creepy as fuck though. You can see the remains of an overgrown garden. The light must have flown inside before but the trees are now obscuring the facade.

\- Please don’t be haunted. Please don’t be haunted. Or a murder house. Or occupied by a psychopath.

 

You open the front door and enter a vestibule. The interior smells like dust and old things. It’s cold in there but not freezing. The temperature is that of abandoned buildings. However, you get the feeling that once the heater is started, the mansion—you are giddy at the word—will be livable.

 

And then it hits you. The house was supposed to be left alone for 130 years. There should be any electricity and some of the furniture you see is more recent than the 19th century.

 

Someone stayed here. At some point. And you really, really hope that they won’t decide to come back now. You know that in space no one can hear you scream, but that’s also true for the middle of the woods.

 

You drag your suitcases to a living room equipped with both old and mid-20th things. Whoever was occupying the house was more preoccupied with efficiency rather than decoration but that’s okay. This person is also responsible for electricity and, from what you can see of the kitchen, plumbing as well. So you’re thankful. Camping is fun only when you know it’s gonna end. You put your luggage in a corner of the room and begin your exploration.

 

First thing to note, the pantry is full of canned food. You start to build the picture of a survivalist living off the land in this abandoned house. Then you hope they didn’t booby traps the whole place. You’re way more prudent with the next door.

 

* * *

 

\- This was no spot for hiding a kid. She could have opened the wrong room and got killed. Children don’t have the same assumptions about reality the adults do. Why do you think there was never a family here?

\- You left us out there.

\- Don’t take this tone with me.

\- Or what? You’re gonna haunt me?

She just smiles at him. His blood freezes in his vein.

\- I could let you rot in this well.”

 

It’s his turn to grin. A fraction of him realizes how ridiculous the situation is. A ghost and a demon at the bottom of an old well smirking at each other in the dark.

\- You wanted to get me out, Eli? How were you planning to do that? With your transparent intangible arms?

 **\- I** can’t do anything. Those I’m working for, however. If you swear an oath.

This time, Robert Svane, aka Bobo del Rey, burst out laughing.

\- Here we are. Devil bargain. Why everyone wants a piece of my soul I can’t seem to figure it out.

\- Oh enough with the drama, Robert. No one is out for your fucking soul. The concept is not even real.

This hurts more than the rest.

\- So I guess I didn’t go to Hell.

\- Call it like that if you wish. Clootie’s not the Devil anyway. Nor are my … employers. I didn’t visit you to discuss philosophy. I came here to offer you an opportunity. Are you interested or am I just wasting my time?

 

A second, he’s tempted to tell her that she is in no hurry, being dead and all, but doesn’t, for the sake of friendship.

\- I’m all ears.

 

* * *

 

Wynonna lets out a groan born of pure boredom and bumps her head fall on the table. An entire afternoon spent in researching old archives to confirm or not that Bulshar’s cult is targeting Purgatory original families descendants is not her idea of a good day of work. Planning and winning against all odds, she likes. All of this makes her feel completely inadequate. Especially when some people in the gang managed to dodge the chore with stupid excuses. Like Jeremy and his “additional tests” or Nedley and Dolls with their “those reports are not writing themselves” leaving Doc, Nicole and herself in Waverly’s librarian claws. And damn if her little sister doesn’t have the soul of a general when it comes to research. Nicole, of course, was more than happy to help… Doc at the other end of the table looks dead. He’s just staring at the sheet in front of him, the same one for the last half hour.

 

\- I think we can stop here, says Waverly, out of the blue.

\- Praised be the Lord!

The ex-immortal flees the room before any change of mind can occur, the Earp heir hot on his heels.

 

\- I need a drink, she declares, to no one in particular.

\- I need 12, answers Doc.

\- Come to the bar?

The proposition is surprising. The first since shit hit the fan. Not that she didn’t go back to Shorty’s, in the meantime, but it was always for group hangs.

\- Lead the way. Waves, are you accompanying us?

\- Nu-uh. Nicole and I are planning a quiet night at the homestead.

\- See you at home.

\- Don’t drink too much.

\- Don’t do anything on the couch.

 

The sun has already set when they emerge into the street. Purgatory at night is one of those small towns neither bustling with activity nor deserted. They pass a few people in a comfortable silence, electing to walk rather than drive without consulting each other. Doc lights up a cigarette and breathes smoke into the air.

 

\- So. New monster?

\- New monster.

\- Wanna take a bet on the number of heads on that one?

She looks at him sideways, surprised and amused.

\- Are you trying to scam me out of my money?

He doesn’t answer right away.

\- Only if you lose.

She thinks. Or at least pretends to consider it when her mind is already made up. She’s just enjoying the feeling of things being like they were before. She also avoids pondering too much on the fact that normal means mass murder, demon and weirdass-killing-everyone-in-sight-cult.

\- Alright … Four.

\- Four? Damn, Wynonna, you’re raising the stakes.

She smiles at him.

\- What are you gonna do about it?

\- Bet on … One at least.

\- Oh, come on!”

The gunslinger laughs as she punches him in the arm.

\- I didn’t think it would be so easy.

\- Okay no, it is not acceptable. When waging on a number of heads, 1 or 1 and more is not valid.

\- My, deputy Earp, are you going to arrest me?

\- I will, if you don’t change that stupid bet.

\- Fine. Fine. Then two.

Wynonna makes a mocking sound.

\- What?

\- Nothing.

She speeds up just a little with a smile, count down from 5 in her mind before provoking him:

\- I didn’t think, I’d ever see you play for keeps.

He swears and grumbles.

\- Alright. You **win**. SIX.

And with that, John Henry Holliday opens the door to the bar and freezes. Wynonna, distracted, just collides with his back.

\- Doc? What the fuck?

That’s when the man moves again, fast. She hears the click of an armed pistol.

\- You have 5 seconds to tell me who you are.

 

* * *

 

\- Under normal circumstances, the old gatekeeper teaches the ways to the new one but…

\- But you’re dead, Eli.” “Oh you noticed, didn’t you?

\- What does it have to do with me? I’m not a priest. In case, you forgot.

\- You know what’s going on. You can help. And worst case scenario, you can still throw metal with your mind. I’m just asking you to guide her during the first months. She can assist you with the curse. It’s a good deal.

There’s an underlying tone of desperation that he chooses to ignore. For old times’ sake.

\- How certain are you she will help me? he inquires instead.

\- I have no guarantee to give you. Just makes sure she likes you enough.

He wants to laugh again. The idea of a demon winning a popularity contest is preposterous at best. Unrealistic at worse.

\- Worst case scenario, you get a shot at the guy who cursed you. You know the one you pledge an innocent woman to. Without her consent.

He shrugs. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s just what’s done is done.

\- So do you agree?

\- To play bodyguard and teacher to some poor stranger who doesn’t have any idea about the shit she just stepped into?

\- More or less. What do you say?

\- Get me out of here?

* * *

 

The visit of the ground floor is disappointing. There is room enough to live. The living room, the kitchen, the pantry and at the rear end of the building, a bedroom and a bathroom. Everything else is locked and you don’t have the keys. You’ll have to call the clerk’s office tomorrow morning but right now you want to explore some more. You climb up the stairs at the bottom of the vestibule to discover a hallway going in two directions. Rooms are only on one side. The rest is windows to the north. On the east part, you find only one unlocked door. Two if you count the one to the attic which you’re not willing to visit just yet. Same for the cellar. So you enter the last room. And that’s where you discover the survivalist nest.

 

You tiptoe inside wary of any trap then your curiosity takes the better of you and you search the whole chamber.

 

Whoever they were, the person hasn’t been there for a while. The bed and the rest of the furniture, once again a medley of old and slightly more recent, is covered in the delicate layer of dust. You open the wardrobe and go through the clothes. Men’s. Dark, practical but with an edgy vibe. Kind of hipstery to be honest. You search the nightstand. No photos, no documents, just a very feminine necklace with a bird pendant. You put everything back in its place. You’ll deal with that later.

 

You visit the west side of the hallway. Find a bathroom and the master bedroom. Untouched. A lady’s from all appearances ruined, gnawed by years of abandonment. A broken wooden bed. A wardrobe with a crackled mirror and a door slightly ajar. An ancient moth-eaten rug. A nightstand missing a leg and two commodes. There are a few old-time photos. On every of these, you notice a tall woman with clear hair. She has a serene if not detached expression on her face. One of the pictures is not framed. Someone just left it on the floor and in the lower right corner you can see a brown mark. You can’t help but think of dried blood. You pick the photo up, flip it and discover an inscription. _Wyatt Earp, Juan Carlos, Elizabeth Killough, Constance Clootie and Robert Svane._ You remember the sign at the entrance of the city. You’re in the presence of a piece of History. Capital H. You look at the faces blurred both by time and the quality of the picture. They look badass though.

 

You pocket the image by reflex then exit the room. If you want to make this viable, it’s gonna take a lot of work. And plenty of money. But you’ve accepted the contract because it would make sure that neither you nor your family would have to worry about it ever again.

 

* * *

 

There’s a woman in the bar. Wynonna can barely see her with the lack of light reduced to a silhouette. Despite his threats, Doc doesn’t fire. He’s still assessing the situation. She would do the same. The duo enters and the Earp heir checks there no danger around, Peacemaker in her hand.

\- Who are you? repeats Doc.

\- Are you going to shoot me, Hank?

That gives them pause. Wynonna doesn’t recognize the voice but there are not many people who know Doc well enough to call him Hank. The man is tense, gun aimed at the stranger. Without looking away, he asks.

\- Could you turn on the lights, Wynonna?

\- Happily. 

Even with all the lamps, the identity of the woman is still a mystery. She has black skin. She’s thin, fragile almost. Dressed in dark colors and lace veil over her face. Detailing her, the older Earp cannot help but think back of the Widows. Her finger twitches on the trigger.

 

\- Oh my heavens.

The voice is soft and little laugh follows the exclamation.

\- You look just like them. I need to sit.

She makes the move towards the stool closest to her and that’s when Doc shoots her. Or rather near her. The bullet makes a hole in the ground and the stranger freezes.

\- Off with the veil and tell me who the Hell you are.

 

The woman slowly removes the lace from her head. She reveals a pretty face with soft features. Black skin, dark eyes a tight bun over a classy yet oldie-style dress. Then Wynonna notices Doc’s reaction. The guy is shaking.

\- This is not possible. Must be the Devil’s work.

 

The stranger smiles. Bright, white and predatory. Observing her, Wynonna can’t help but think of a hunter. Something hidden in the shadows, stalking its prey. Waiting for an opportunity to strike.

\- Hello, Hank, repeats the woman.

\- Who is she?

It’s Wynonna’s turn to sound like a broken record. After a few seconds, Doc looks at her, eyes wide.

\- This is Kate. Kate Big Nose. My wife.

\- Hi, says Kate, waving his fingers at her, smiling all sweet.

 

A few minutes later, Wynonna and Doc are sipping whisky while staring at Kate in disbelief. The woman looks back at them, relaxed.

\- How… I mean why. I mean how? wonders the Earp heir.

\- Am I alive?

\- Yes!

The joined exclamation startles her.

\- Well, I need something first.

\- What?” asks her husband (Damn this one was gonna take a while to process).

\- Wynonna must promise me not to shoot me. I know you Earps and your itchy trigger reflexes.

\- Don’t give me a reason and we’ll get along just fine.

Kate tries to create a sense of familiarity, of intimacy, and Wynonna doesn’t like the attempt. In the end, the old-timer nods as if accepting she won’t be winning this one.

\- You’re no fun, she comments.

\- We’re not friends so don’t waste your breath.

\- I’ve lost it some years ago.

\- And what does that mean exactly, Kate? asks Doc.

\- It means, honey, that I am a vampire.

Wynonna and the gunslinger are on their feet spouting threats and going for their weapons in a matter of seconds. Kate stays immobile, her hands in her lap, trying to seem as innocuous as possible.

\- How did this came to pass? You were perfectly normal the last time I saw you.

\- And remember what happened next? You got cured, immortal then shipped at the bottom of a well. I wanted you to come back to you. So I looked for a solution and…

\- And your answer was to become a walking dead with an iron deficiency? asks Wynonna in disbelief.

\- The cards told me it was the only way to find him in the future.

This time, the young woman turns to Doc for clarification.

\- She’s kind of a seer, he explains.

\- I need another drink.

\- Yeah, me too.

The two non-vampires of the room down one more glass of whisky before speaking to Kate again.

\- Care to elaborate? asks Doc.

\- Of course, honey.

Wynonna tries not to frown at the pet name.

\- I came to warn you, actually. My deck is not efficient as it used to be. Still doesn’t know where my missing cards, Hank?

\- No idea.

\- That’s a topic for another discussion. Anyway. I wasn’t sniffing around Purgatory when my … family decided that it was time.

\- For what?

\- Present our respects.

\- To whom?

\- Oh come on, Wynonna, you’re better than that. From Hank, I understand, he’s always been a bit slow.

\- Hey!

\- But you’re a bright woman. You survived all this crap.

\- Bulshar.

-Bingo.

The word is accompanied by a wink and a smile that Wynonna doesn’t return.

\- My family is not the only one to … pilgrim here. And believe me, we are not the ugliest thing on the roster. But right now, they are the ones you should concern yourself with.

\- Why?

\- Because they want to prove their loyalty. They’ll do anything to show they are useful. Hurt the heir. You should tell your friends and…

 

Wynonna is already halfway to the door, phone in hand. She calls Waverly first but it doesn’t go through.

\- Don’t worry. She might be at the homestead, safe.

Nonetheless, she turns to Kate to check.

The ‘have to be invited to enter someone’s home’; is it a myth or an actual thing?

\- Oh it’s true.

\- Then how come you’re here? asks Doc.

\- It’s a bar, Hank, not a house.

\- Point taken. I’m coming with you, Wynonna.

\- Me too.

Peacemaker is aimed at the vampire’s head before she finishes her sentence.

\- I don’t think so. Thanks for the warning but now I’m in charge.

\- Suspicious little thing, ain’t you?

\- Not little and not a thing either. See you around Kate. Keep clear of troubles or I will force you to make your peace.

 

Xavier answers after 3 tones.

\- Yes.

\- Dolls, we have a problem. An immortal bloodsucking shitstorm waiting to happen.

\- Crap.

\- Yeah pretty much my point.

\- Nedley, Jeremy and I are still here. I’ll give them each a kit.

\- We have a vampire emergency kit?

A silence then.

\- As I told you multiple times, Earp, Black Badge dabbles … ed in supernatural affairs. Keep Peacemaker with you. Don’t split with Doc and go to the homestead. The ammolite should protect you. Do you know where Waverly and Nicole are?

\- Home. I hope.

\- I’ll meet you there. And it’s gonna be okay, Wynonna.

She doesn’t answer before hanging up and starting to run, Doc right behind her.

 

* * *

 

Nicole is on the couch. She seems a little better. It’s like if understanding more about the motivations of whatever tried to kill her all those years ago appeased her somehow. The troubles of the day wore her off anyway. She just stares into the fire without speaking.

\- Want a beer, honey? asks Waverly.

\- Huh? Oh yes, please.

A pause.

\- Would you mind answering a question?

\- Tell me.

She joins her on the couch, catch her hands and looks at her with all the love she feels.

\- Can we just Netflix and chill tonight? I’m not sure I’m up for anything else.

\- Of course.

Waverly leans towards her girlfriend and brushes off a strand of hair from her face.

\- I’ll never force you. You know what? I’m going to cook something you like and you’ll have only one important mission.

The blue eyes are interrogative.

\- Find tonight movie.

Another smile and a giggle. The youngest Earp kisses Nicole’s cheek. Then the policewoman turns for a chaste peck on the lips. It doesn’t remain that way for more than a few seconds. There’s too much fire between them. Waverly breaks the embrace.

\- You sure?

Nicole kisses her again.

\- Yes. Bedroom?

\- Or here?

This time, it’s the redhead who stops.

\- It’s not a good idea, Waves.

\- Why? We’re alone.

\- Yeah, right now. But Wynonna’s gonna be back sooner or later and I’d rather avoid getting yelled at while I’m naked.

\- You do have a point.

The two women share a laugh then another kiss when a loud noise from the outside startle them both.

In a second, Nicole is back on police mode. She jumps on her feet and goes right to the window. Waverly, being Waverly, does what she always does in times like these. She grabs her shotgun. A goddamn dragon could be waiting and she would attack them with her precious weapon. She opens the front door despite Nicole’s protestations.

It’s dark out there and cold but the air is clear enough and Waverly cannot miss the 4x$ wrecked in the trench near the ranch, engine still on. Instincts kick in and the young woman discards her gun to bullet to people who seem in dire need of assistance. She hasn’t even set foot out of the house when an arm snakes around her waist and holds her back.

\- Waves, no!

\- Let me go, Nicole!

\- You don’t run towards a car accident. It can catch on fire or explode.

\- But there are…

\- Call for help. We cannot move the driver or the passengers.

\- Why?

\- Because they could end up paralyzed.

That gives her pause. She stops squirming and Nicole releases her not without adding a last thing.

\- Plus you don’t know what caused the crash and we’re living in freak country. Go phone the police station and I will check on the car.

They’re barely apart when someone calls to them.

\- Help! Oh my God! Please save him!

It’s a woman. Aside from that neither Nicole nor Waverly can notice anything. She’s limping and crying and her hands are waving at them in a desperate plea for mercy. Both of them almost run to her side right then. But for Nicole’s sake, Waverly stays inside to look for her phone.

 

* * *

 

Nicole, weapon in her holster, goes to the victim. She’s confident, professional and calmer. For some reason, the stranger stops to rest against the homestead’s fence. A second, the deputy wonders. Then the woman tries to reach the car and Nicole is sure. It’s not a Revenant. One of them wouldn’t care to save someone. She closes on the victim position but still pauses on the border of the Earp’s property.

\- Hey! Miss! Stop. Help is on the way. I’m Officer Nicole Haught. Please, miss.

She comes to a halt. She doesn’t turn on the spot. She stays halfway between the entrance of the ranch and the wreckage. She stands there in shock.

Nicole gets closer. And closer. She puts her hand on the woman’s shoulder. The stranger grabs her and spins. In a second, Nicole has to process too much information at the same time. First when the victim’s skin touches her and she feels love/lust/adoration/oh please mistress talk to me. Then the civilian’s face is in front of her and the still rational part of her brain notices the pearly white fangs in place of teeth and she knows she’s in danger. And there’s a light on the right side of them. She registers the roar of an engine a fraction of a second before the stranger is ripped away from her by a very recognizable truck. There’s a horrible sound of flesh, bones and metal all clashed in a disgusting ensemble and the noise quiets, she hears Wynonna.

\- Go back to the house. Protect Waverly.

That she understands. That she can do. She races towards the door as gunshots and animal hisses of pain erupt behind her. Something is very wrong and for the second time today, Nicole feels like a child again.

 

* * *

 

Wynonna can now tell with absolute certainty that she doesn’t like vampires. Learn something new every day. Lucky for her, the old methods are still efficient. Shooting them between the eyes with Peacemaker works just fine. She dispatches the first woman quickly then her passenger stuck in the seat. That’s when she hears the yelling from the hills and turns to see half a dozen silhouettes running towards them, wild and out for blood. Normal bullets don’t kill them but slow them long enough for her to do the job.

Despite that, they’re still relieved when Dolls joins them and tosses a pike to the gunslinger. The three of them make quick work of the war party. When the last vampire becomes dust, Wynonna stops to let out a howl of joy and high fives her team.

\- That’s how we roll.

Doc's leaning against the car, out of breath, just smiles at her while the agent examines the remains before stating his conclusions.

\- They’re all newly turned. Cannon fodder.

\- So what? The bad guys are just testing us? asks Doc.

\- Yeah probably. I suggest we regroup inside the homestead. I’ll explain the drill to you.

Wynonna takes a look at her truck.

\- I’ll call the mechanic first thing in the morning. Have it towed. I’m gonna need a subvention… Boss.

Dolls sighs, then nods.

 

Inside the house, they discover a panicked Waverly over a very groggy Nicole.

\- I don’t know what happened. One minute, she’s out there, the next, she’s coming back and the one after that, she tells me she wants a nap and then…

She gestures towards her girlfriend who’s now longer sleepy but asleep. Dolls goes to the young woman, forces her to wake up and after checking her reflexes, turns to them.

\- She’s okay. She must have touched one of them, however briefly. They control humans by releasing a very specific set of pheromones. Highly addictive. They have to dose their victims regularly or it fades. And when the vampire dies, it disappears instantly, leaving the person tired. Nicole will be fine tomorrow. Hell of a hangover though.

\- Huh, excuse me, vampires? asks Waverly.

Wynonna has to give credit to her little sister. No matter what weird shit the Ghost River Triangle throws at them, she always manages to avoid the nervous breakdown.

\- Yeah, apparently Purgatory now has its own Twilight division. Oh and Doc’s wife is in town.

\- Kate Big Nose?

\- You know her?

\- Yuh-uh, history buff remember?

\- Can we please go back to the subject? asks Doc.

\- How is she alive anyway?

\- Oh that’s the best part. She’s a vampire too.

\- What?

The exclamation comes from both Waverly and Dolls. Doc raises his hands to prevent the avalanche of questions.

\- I just found out. At the same time as Wynonna. Can we focus on to how not to die?

\- It’s pretty easy actually. Provided you follow some ground rules. Jeremy took care of setting Nedley. I’ll explain to you and then I’ll go secure Nicole’s place. You up for the challenge, Doc? Your bar will be next on the list.

\- Then riding with you will be a privilege.

\- And in the meantime, you will tell me all there is to know about your wife.

\- You’re only helping cause you want the gossip. I’m shocked by the loss of values and integrity in the government agencies.

Dolls, busy with the bags, doesn’t answer but snickers before handing everyone a necklace.

\- Here. Wear it at all time. It’ll shield from their mental control ability. Also from now on, don’t let anyone enter your land. If you have any doubt find a way to spray them with that.

He exhibits a vial of clear liquid.

\- It’s salt, silver particles, some plants and a ritual. I’ll show you how to prepare it. Vampires hate that. They’re allergic to it. They will react. Outside of that, elimination methods are pretty much straightforward. Beheading works. Piking too. And Peacemaker.

\- Someone knows why they’re here? asks Waverly.

\- Apparently, they came to pledge themselves to Bulshar.

\- Great. Just what we needed.

 

* * *

It’s lonely up there. Lonely and dark. You set up your computer, puts some music on and turns on the lights. All of them. Including the ones outside along the road leading to the metal gate. You don’t feel safer.

So in the end, instead of having this quiet evening by yourself you were craving at the beginning of the day, you decide to try and see if one of your friends is still awake in the civilized world. You dig up the portable router you bought before coming here, marvel once again at the futuristic aspect of the thing—it looks like you went and rob the ISS—pray to one in particular for it to work despite your remote location and plug it. When the WiFi sign blinks on your screen, it’s like you’ve just won the lottery…

And lucky for you, your best friend is online and eager to ear some news. You cannot help but feel a sense of relief when the familiar face appears on the phone.

\- So. How is it?

\- Pretty much redneck country. My closest neighbor is 5 kms away and the woods are creepy as fuck. I’m not totally sure I’m gonna be able to sleep tonight.

\- And the house?

\- Oh you mean the horror manor? Well, there’s electricity and hot water, so it’s not that bad. I have a lot of work to do and too many locked doors to feel comfortable. Also, I think someone lived there at some point.

The face of your best friend turns white.

\- You sure you should stay here?

\- Yeah, it’s fine. If anyone wanted to murder me, they would have done it this afternoon. But enough about me. Tell me everything that happened to you.

While you listen to their stories, you start to prepare yourself something to eat. Thing is, you’re not that much of a cook and it’s been a long day. So you opt for the easy way around. Instant noodle you brought. You’re in the kitchen, chatting with your friend, while searching shelves for a bowl and a casserole when you hear the sound for the first time. At the beginning, you think it’s the heater. Then, it happens again.

And this time, you can definitely tell it’s coming from outside. You pause. Your friend notices it.

\- Everything’s okay?

\- Yeah. It’s just a noise. It’s weird.

\- You should call the cops

\- And establish myself as the city girl who’s scared of the dark? No, thank you. It might be just the wind on the gate.

But just in case, you open a drawer, unearth a massive kitchen knife and present it like it’s freaking Excalibur.

\- See, I’m armed.

The noise is constant now. And if it’s the heater, you’d better find out before you become the first Mars involuntary settler.

\- Billie, you should really call the cops.

You look at your friend. At the earnest worry in their eyes.

\- It’s okay. I’ll be back in a few minutes.

They know you well enough to tell you to “be careful, dammit,” then you cut the feed, put on your coat and open the door. Outside, there’s dark, fear and the constant banging.

You should have thought twice before leaving the house at night. The alley is lighted but more than half of the bulbs is broken.

\- This is how zombie movie starts, you mutter to yourself, clutching the knife, sweat dripping in your back despite the temperature.

 

It’s not the heater but the gate. You can see the metal moving as if someone was trying … and failing to open it.

\- Come to Purgatory, Miss Cross. All the money you want as long as you agree to live and take care of a historic piece of land. They forgot to mention it was a fucking horror show.

With the darkness you have to be two or three meters away before distinguishing anything past the gate. Turns out it’s not a ghost, it’s a guy.

\- Hey! Hey! Yeah, you asshole! Stop trying to bust that thing open! It’s locked! It held for a century and it would probably last a bit longer without you kicking it.

Your voice derails the stranger and he raises his eyes to meet yours. You freeze, deer in the headlights style. Suddenly happy of the presence of the gate between you.

 

* * *

 

The door used to open. It used not to be locked up for him. Haven. Gift from a dying friend. Now not only it’s locked but someone is yelling at him. So he says the only thing that comes to his mind.

\- It used to open.

Someone turns out to be a woman. She could be between mid-twenties and two millennia old. That’s Purgatory for you. Average size, average build, soft in the way city folks are but prepared. The new “ready to face the cold” clothes speak for themselves. Brown-reddish hair. Green eyes. Not serene like Elizabeth but very much alive and very much angry. One moment the visage of the late priestess appears over hers. Reflexes take over and he calls out to her.

\- Elizabeth but…

The illusion dissipates and in its place there’s a very confused woman.

\- No. Billie.

\- Elizabeth is dead, he corrects.

\- But I can promise you, Billie isn’t dead and Billie has a knife so you better try no funny business. What do you want?

One second, he considers telling her the truth but the small-small still rational part of his brain warns him about bad idea and nervous breakdown. He needs her to trust him enough that she opens the gate.

\- I used to live here.

\- When?

\- A while back

\- That’s not an answer.

She comes closer to take a better look at him.

\- Are you… You’re not dressed for winter. And is that a straitjacket?

Shit. Elizabeth did free him from the well. She did not provide him any clothes. He attempts to smile in a comforting way but the expression on the woman’s face proves him he has missed his objective. By a lot. No need to try to deny it. He’s scaring the living hell out of her.

\- Yes. They released me today.

\- And they didn’t give you back your clothes?

\- I wasn’t wearing any when they found me—a lie forms itself in his mind—I had a momentary psychotic episode from the loneliness. All of my things are in there. Top floor bedroom on the east side of the hallway.

He hopes she’s been curious enough to search the house.

\- Wait, you’re the survivalist?

\- The what?

She shakes her head.

\- Sorry. If I let you in, do you promise not to kill or harvest any of my organs during the night?

 

He’s about to answer when he sees a movement in one of the upper window. Great. It has already started.

 

* * *

 

One second, the guy seemed determined to enter, the next he’s staring at the house, apparently spooked. You follow his gaze and that’s when you notice the unmistakable. There’s someone … something in one of the locked rooms of the first floor. It’s pale. Elongated. Freaky. It looks like a ghost from a Lovecraftian nightmare and you’re under the impression its attention is fixed on you.

Suddenly the strange man just freed from the asylum is not the scariest being in the neighborhood. You’re on the other side of that gate in a matter of seconds. The thing in the window is no longer visible but somehow you’re not reassured.

You turn to the guy. Tall, blue eyes, bicolor mohawk and beard. There’s the hipster-y vibe. Plus the straitjacket, you choose to ignore for the time being. Still less frightening that what you’ve just witnessed.

\- You know what? I’ve just reconsidered my roommate situation and I think, I think, we might just be able to make it work

\- If I help you search the house?

\- See, we’re already—you’re gesturing a connection sign—on the same page. Billie Cross.

You hold out your hand. He takes it, squeezes it briefly before releasing you.

\- Robert Svane.

 

* * *

 

She awakes in the dark from strange dreams of murder and blood, lying on a cold floor of a cave. She doesn’t know where she is at first and for a few moments she fears it’s prison, not bright and full of life like it was before but a real cage underground. A minute, she wants to rip out the corset of her own body to feel powerful again. She remembers she can’t, though. She’s spent.

 

Then she hears the singing farther ahead and all the terror goes away. She lies back on the dry, sandy floor and she sighs. It’s okay. She’s safe. Her servants are near. They will care for her. She takes a look at her still empty ring finger.

\- Not for long, she whispers. Not for long.


End file.
